


Assessment

by Dominura



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: F/M, Kylo is a whiny piss baby, Multi, Poorly described eveything, This isn't exactly canon, phasma is my queen, she is the ruler of the universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-15
Updated: 2016-01-15
Packaged: 2018-05-14 04:29:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5729542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dominura/pseuds/Dominura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kylo won't clean his room and things get weird</p>
            </blockquote>





	Assessment

Kylo was fed up, more than usual. The general, Hux, had insisted that Kylo stay confined to his quarters to wait for ‘assessment’. He wondered what he had planned to assess, but he worries it had to do with his decision to capture the girl on the last mission, rather than the droid and his complete failure to extract information from her. And, as if to make it worse the girl escaped, but thankfully she was later apprehended and placed in a more secure facility deep within Star Killer Base. 

He paces his quarters, his tensions where running high all week but being sealed in here and locked away from the action made it all the more excruciating. Hux had been bullying him all week on top of that, constantly reminding him of what a failure he is as an apprentice to Snoke. He punches the wall, his gloved had comes in hard contact with the cold concrete. He could use the force and break out of here easily, but that would only give Hux more reasons to harass him. While he knew the General was far more lenient with him than with others soldiers, partially due to some warped type of favoritism, there are some things he knows he can’t get away with.

The door opens with a sharp hydraulic hiss. Kylo cocks his head to face the door. It’s the General, with his convoy of troopers. He has that stupid shit eating smirk that Kylo wants to smack off his face. He turns his troopers away and has them lock the door behind them to leave them alone. 

“You really should clean up in here,” Hux scans his room, it looked like a tornado had ploughed through here. Furniture tipped, books laying open on the floor, it was a disaster but Kylo couldn’t care any less. He continues, dragging his gloved finger on the wall, to his displeasure it picks up an ample amount of dust, “Just because you’re special does not mean that you’re absolved from having a tidy room.”

"With all due respect, General, fuck you,” Kylo spits, he’s had enough of this stale room and more than enough of Hux’s righteous attitude, “You’ve had your fun, now let me return to my post.” The helmet makes him look enraged. Hux wasn’t too fond of that ugly beat up thing, but he understands it’s important to have a sense of uniformity among the soldiers. Even though Kylo was special, he shouldn’t be above the common soldier’s basic expectations and duties. Hux scoffs, that grin comes back to his face in muted form, “Clean up in here first and I’ll consider it. I don’t like wasting soldiers because you choose to act like a spoiled brat. You’re becoming a burden to all of us, Ren. And if you don’t change your attitude I’ll have you thrown to the nearest planet.”

“You need me,” Kylo dares, “I’m your strongest soldier, worth 500 of your best men.”

“Cute,” Hux claps his leather gloves together to get rid of the dust, “If that’s the case, I should start recruiting those 500 men to replace you. I’d rather deal with new recruits than deal with you. That’s probably how Snoke feels about you too right about now.” 

Hux knew that he had to be stricter with him, but now and then he forgets exactly who he is dealing with. While Kylo may have the strength of 500 men he also has the temper of 500 men. Hux feels a tug at his holster as a burst of air rushes past him. He doesn’t turn to glace at it, familiar safely click of his own blaster pistol lets him know exactly what it is. 

Hux sighs, he knows that Kylo won’t lay a finger on him but had another soldier went this far he would be executed on the spot, he speaks warningly, “You don’t want me here? I’ll leave, however,” his voice is mocking and pushes Kylo to apply more force on the blasters trigger, “I will return,” He goes to leave the room, Kylo keeps the blaster trained on him from a distance. Hux stops in the open door, “And I’ll bring Phasma with me.” The door slides and locks behind him. The blaster falls to the floor with a heavy metallic clunk. 

Hux knew his weak spots all too well, Kylo curses him. He was going to wait it out, and absolutely under no circumstances would he show even the smallest drop of weakness to Hux or Phasma. Hux clearly doesn’t know who he is talking to, Kylo mumbles to himself. He picks up his over turned desk chair and begins to straighten out his desk so he could at least look over some the TIE fighter blueprints he found. He didn’t know anything about ships or complicated machines for that matter, but it interested him. He had hardly begun looking over the plans when the door to his quarters opened and closed. 

The confident clunky metal foot steeps could only mean one person. A nervous shiver runs the length of his body when he casts his eyes on the glittering chrome storm trooper. To the left of the closed door Kylo spots an armed snowtrooper, probably the same one that is always with her, it stands there as still as a dead Wookie, in its hands a suspicious silver briefcase.

“General Hux sent me,” She speaks, and looks around the room with great distaste, “It seems you lack the ability of self-control.” She emphasises the last bit, upon spotting the Generals blaster pistol laying abandon on the floor. Kylo wants to harass her just as he had harassed Hux, but he knows better than that. Unlike Hux, when it came to his behaviour Phasma wouldn’t stand for even the slightest bit of disobedience. But it’s not enough to stop his anger from flaring up.   
“Have you come to assess me?” Kylo stands up, his cockiness irritates her. 

She pauses, looking him up from head to toe with minor disgust, “Assess? I suppose,” She seems disinterested, she’s a busy woman and this probably the last place she wants to be, “But the assessment will come second. First, you will remove your clothes.” 

Beneath his helmet Kylo blinks several times, she said it so bluntly that he’s unsure if he had heard her correctly of if it was some kind of joke. Though, she doesn’t seem like the type joke. It was a well-known fact that high ranking officials would use the lower ranks to fulfil their sexual appetites. The lack of women on the Starkiller base made a perfect climate for such activities, despite that most sexual acts, but more so homosexual acts were forbidden. But this is a woman, he thinks, surely it can’t be of that nature. It must be a physical assessment and if he wants to be set free he should comply. 

She cocks her head, “Should I assess you’re hearing too?” Her voice filters harshly though her helmet like a cosmic wind. Kylo’s hands unconsciously start undoing his waist ties, he internally curses at her orders and then at himself for so easily obeying them. Her voice fills the room with such an unwavering presence, he wonders if she is a force user. 

His robe slides off his shoulders and lands at his ankles, his boots and gloves are next. He kicks them to the side childishly, now only his under shorts and helmet still remained. He stands there awkwardly, the pale skin on his chest and neck fills with a pinkish hue. 

“Do I need to repeat myself, soldier?” 

He removes his shorts, disregarding in the pile of his other clothes. His hands stop when they come in contact with his helmet. He never takes it off, having his genitals exposed and flailing in the open feels substantively less humiliating than removing the helmet. Phasma had never seen him without it, she was a little curious to see what kind of face belonged to a man like him. It hisses when he removes it, he sets it on the desk apprehensively. 

“You will clean your room,” she inspects his long face and his lanky figure, not sure exactly what to make of him, “You have fifteen minutes.” The pinkish hue spreads from his neck to his face and ears. He doesn’t move, he hates being given orders, more so when those orders come second had from Hux. His fists slowly tighten until his knuckles go white. This was Hux’s way of further tormenting him. 

He glares at the tinted visor of her helmet, he can feel her eyes molesting him but he can’t make out anything on the other side of the dark glass. She takes a step towards him, he keeps staring at her with no plan to back down. For her to come into his quarters and treat him like a common soldier was beyond insulting. 

“Are you defying my orders?” She says with words as sharp as switch blades. He says nothing, she can see the corner of his mouth quiver with the slightest lack of confidence. She repeats herself taking another step forwards, “Are you defying my orders?” Without his boots on she towers over him more than usual, he stares down his own reflection in her visor. She removes her gloves, exposing her large but still feminine hands. Her neat nails trace his jaw and his throat, “It might take you sometime to figure it out,” she whispers with vengeance, the grain of her voice scratches at him like sand paper, “who is really in charge here.” 

In one smooth motion she strikes his cheek with all her strength. Her blow is enough to send him stumbling away from her, he cups his enflamed cheek with in utter shock as his brain tries to catch up to what just happened. She pulls him up by the arm and slaps him again on the other side. While he is still in her grip she kicks him square in the stomach. The force is enough to cripple him, he falls to the floor coughing as the air rushes painfully into his chest. 

“You will clean your room,” She rubs her reddening knuckles, “You have twelve minutes.” 

He looks up at her disdainfully, blood running from the corner of his mouth, but he shows no sign of following the order. She scowls, “The nail that sticks out must be hammered in,” she lifts her leg and presses her boot into his crotch, he bites his lip to avoid crying out in pain, “the nail that refuse to conform will either bend or be broken.” She grinds her boot into him, being careful to apply as little pressure to ensure she won’t cause physical damage to him but making sure there is enough to cause him as much pain as possible. After all, to damage him here would be problematic as the blood line must be continued. 

The silver boot gouges into him like a hot knife, every single cell in his body begins to scream with agony. His head goes light with pain, it’s become too much, it feels as though his skin is being slowly cut away from his body, “Stop!” He pounds at the floor, tears bud up in his eyes and obscure his vision. It hurts so badly he feels as if he might vomit, “Please! I beg you! I’ll do it!” She twists her ankle one more time for good measure before pulling off of him, earning a muted cry from him. The snowtrooper at the door is sucking the whole thing up as if it was dinner theater. 

“Will you clean your room?” she asks sweetly, as if speaking to a child. 

Once he’s freed he twists and contorts with pain, “Yes,” he winces and nods rapidly. 

“Yes, who?” She leans towards him, her demeanor suggests she will strike him again if he comes to the wrong answer. For a second he things about fighting her. But hand to hand combat between the two of them would be likely to land in her favour. She could easily over power him physically and every muscle in his body pulses with a dull pain. It hopeless, he must accept that it will be in his own best interest to obey her.

He shuts his eyes tightly, his adam’s apple drops hard in his throat, “Yes,” He struggles push his pride aside to get the words out of his mouth, “Captain Phasma.” It comes out as a whisper, but for now she will accept it. 

“Good boy,” She looks at the clock, “Ten minutes.” 

He scrambles to his feet, his face, stomach and genitals are riddled with pain and the sense of oncoming bruises. He gets to work picking up the books scattered on the floor. She eyes him carefully as he scurries around like a strange, pathetic, naked, and wounded animal. With the force he picks up the toppled book case, and puts all the books back in with one motion. Phasma rarely gets to see such feats and it makes watching him being pitiful all the more amusing. It hardly takes him anytime at all for him to get the rest of the room into order. 

Once the bed is made and he is sure that everything is in its place he looks at the clock. He’s managed to it all with in the time frame, and he stands looking somewhat pleased with his work. It’s probably the nicest his quarters has looked in a long time. Phasma inspects the room, while it’s not up to her standards of clean she believes the Hux would approve. But there was one thing he neglected to clean. 

She sits on the bed and raises her hand, the snowtrooper rushes towards her, and opens the silver brief case. From where he stands, Kylo can’t see what’s inside. She pulls out a grey polishing cloth and throws it to Kylo’s feet. She uncrosses her legs, “You’ll stop polishing when you can see your own wretched face staring back as you in every piece of my armor, and is that understood?”

He slowly reaches for the cloth, “Yes, Captain Phasma.” 

“It seems you’re starting to learn, start with the boots,” She orders. 

He furthers swallows his pride when he drops to his knees and begins to polish her foot plate. In small circles he polishes, he thinks that going at this rate will take forever. The circles get bigger and his work becomes sloppier. He moves to the next piece. 

Of course she notices the imperfections, he must be fool to think otherwise. She fists his messy hair, it was far too over grown and in her eyes it was begging to be pulled. She’s strong and can pull him off his knees with ease, “Do it again, properly,” she snarls, throwing him back to the ground. He cowers when he starts back to work again. 

“Please me,” She watches him carefully, “And I’ll reward you for your good behaviour. You want to be rewarded, don’t you?” Her eyes lids are as heavy as her voice.   
“Yes, Captain Phasma,” his voice shakes with the slightest quiver. If her goal was to break him she was awfully getting close. Piece by piece he cleans, paying close attention to detail as he goes. He started off working hard to save his own ass, but by the time he’s done with the armor on the one leg he only wants to satisfy her. She nudges him away, to inspect his work. He waits anxiously to hear her response. 

“It will do for now,” She says flatly. Up until now she was just having a bit of fun, but she did have orders she had to follow and time was in the essence. She motions for the snowtrooper to come over with her briefcase. She sorts through it, retrieving a pair of medical gloves. She puts the gloves on slapping them around her wrists, “You like women, Ren?” 

He nods, growing nervous at were this was leading as it can’t be anywhere good.

“Men?” She asks with a verbal eyebrow raise. He shakes his head, it wasn’t a lie but it wasn’t the truth either. He didn’t care the gender of the person, only that he could use them to get his fill. People would obey him, people craved for his attention and that’s what he liked best. But now the tables were turned. 

“Interesting,” she motions for him to come closer and he does so obediently. He can tell she knows he’s lying, women can always see the truth in lies. 

She extends her gloved hand to his face, “Suck,” she orders. Reluctantly, he takes her fingers in his mouth. Of course she would put the gloves on, he’s far too unclean and not worthy in the slightest. He closes his eyes and sucks on her fingers as if they had the sweetest taste in the world. From behind the snowtrooper carefully pulls his arms to his back. Kylo goes to look at him, but Phasma hooks her fingers to the roof of his mouth so hard he almost gags. But he does not object and goes back to swirling his tongue around her fingers as if it was his sole purpose. Having a powerful and arrogant asshole like him in such a lowly position brings Phasma great satisfaction. 

“Use triple knots,” She sneers, “He’s stronger than he looks.” The snowtrooper begins the process of binding Kylo’s folded arms with the strong black rope. The snowtrooper is highly skilled, even the strongest man couldn’t wiggle his way out of it. It resembles an intricate spider’s web rather than simple knots when it’s complete. The rope digs into his flesh, every movement he makes causes him to shift with discomfort. 

Phasma props her head up with her hand, she leans towards him as if he was a miniature dog, “You know,” She speaks to the snow trooper, while scissoring her fingers in his mouth, “He’s not exactly my type, but he’s almost cute when he’s tied up like this. Do you agree, General?” 

General? Kylo’s heart races out of rhythm, and his ears ring as if someone was screaming directly in his brain. Sure enough his worst fear is confirmed, the snowtrooper slowly removes his helmet revealing that familiar shit eating face that is Hux. Kylo’s eyes widen as he freezes solid, mortified at the thought that Hux had witnessed this whole incident, he shuts his eyes tightly and begs for death as his cheeks grow hot and his stomach with utter humiliation. He had seen it all, and Kylo knew Hux would never let him live it down as long as he is alive. Hux’s eyes, having waited so patiently for the better half of an hour, were almost cannibalistic in nature. This was the assessment.

**Author's Note:**

> I (mostly likely) will not continue this, but who knows! 
> 
> Thanks for reading :)


End file.
